


Birds of a feather

by straycatblues



Category: Constantine (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Angels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straycatblues/pseuds/straycatblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel- now Gabrielle- stands from her bed ,wearing a rumpled shirt, enough to cover her thin frame. It barely moves, like a lost armor, hugging her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of a feather

The sun is barely making it’s appearance, illuminating a world constantly dark. The clock hits 6,ticking away the time and the night. The city tries to wake up from it’s collective slumber. Cars and trains still march the industrialized stride, filled with people and sins. 

Gabriel- now Gabrielle- stands from her bed ,wearing a rumpled shirt, enough to cover her thin frame. It barely moves, like a lost armor, hugging her. There’s a quick moment when she thinks she’s being watched, but dismisses it as a trick of a paranoid mind that isn’t her own.. She starts the TV :news again, dead people again,-” Unworthy little monkeys. How I could’ve saved them”-and goes to the fridge, grabbing a tangerine .She needs the food, now that she has fallen . She hates it. She hates  _them._

_“A narcotic officer was found dead this morning, under a bench in the City Park by two local teenagers . The cause of death appears to be an overdose. The medical examiners are trying to find if it was  suicide or just an accident”._

Oh, irony. The fallen angel smiles. ”Maybe this one made it in Heaven. Or maybe he wasn’t even sorry. ”. Anger fills her suddenly, taking her over. She should be there. She’s done the right thing ! If only her Father could hear her prayers and pleads, the screaming and the nightmares, the scent of sulfur that won’t ever leave her alone. A flower pot  hits the wall and she doesn’t even realize it’s her own action. Gabrielle slides down to the floor, clear tears washing her cheeks. It’s a strange feeling. And that’s the problem, angels aren’t supposed to feel anything at all. But she isn’t one anymore.

She laughs, a dry, humorless laugh, like a dog’s bark, filled with sarcasm and bitterness and remorse .The TV keeps rambling about .Shaking, the human tries to think of something else. That murder. She can feel all the shit that man pulled while alive, even as a fallen, even through the images. The little girls, the gambling ,the lying and the drugs. That’s her curse, knowing but being powerless. The scene’s a work of art., just like the one last week; whoever’s doing this is a master in disguise.

-Oh, you really think so? a male voice cracks from across  the room. She looks at him, realization hitting her.Archangel. The tears stop and she tries to compose herself.

-Yes. You’re quite skillful. Handsome too, stranger.

-Gabriel. They call me Gabriel.

-Such a coincidence. They used to call me the same. Now they don’t. I’m an example they use to teach the younger ones how choice and love can destroy Grace.

-You remind me of someone, but you’re not the same.

-Lucifer? Heh. No, we don’t. Lucifer made Hell, has offered a good way to find redemption for the humans. I’ve achieved nothing through my sacrifice, she says, voice trembling with barely hidden rage.

The Messenger looks at her a little, studying her. He watched ever since Lucifer burned her Grace away. The shadow of her wings weights more than a pound of lead around her neck, like a noose that will never give. Gabrielle has imagination and a sick need for revenge. He’d like to work around that.

-Look what, Goldie-Locks, I’m going to make you a deal.

-Playing demon now, mightyArchangel?

-Hmm, no. Although I’m used to putting up a mask.

Something flickers in his eyes and the fallen one realizes she shouldn’t tease. His eyes are trained on hers and she suddenly feels small, an ant in a world of elephants.

-I want you to help me, Gabrielle..

-Help you how?

-You’ve got imagination.Come with me, darling. We could paint the wide world red.  

-I don’t like red.

-Too bad. You’d look great in it.

His innuendo annoys her, but she says nothing. Keeping a straight face, the now-human moves for the balcony . It’s cold and she’s barely dressed. The pair of eyes on her don’t ease. Ignoring him, she steps out.

-It’s a really nice view, don’t you think?

The street below is grey and empty and the sky above is so big and close. Maybe if she just climbs on the edge of it and pretends to spread her lost wings, she’ll fly. Her Father will forgive her and she will get her garrison back. And it so nice outside, no sounds to be heard, only prayers. Maybe one will carry her to Heaven. And if it won’t, the street could use some color.

A hand grabs her arm and pulls her down to meet an embrace that’s even colder, but the ex-angel accepts it, reveling in the Grace that oozes from Gabriel, his smell of amber and candy soothing her. It’s like morphine for her new-found soul, one she’d trade for a ride back home.

-Want that job? he asks.

-Well, I guess I could manage. Everything to get me closer to flying.

-Good. I’ve got a pilot who’s afraid of heights.

She laughs, he smiles. Maybe Lucifer did the right thing for once.


End file.
